


Never the Twain Shall Meet

by DraconianDevil



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Explicit Descriptions, Fantasy, M/M, Reality, talking and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:45:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraconianDevil/pseuds/DraconianDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if we were boyfriends?"<br/>(ot the one where Harry and Louis play a game of What Ifs)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never the Twain Shall Meet

**Never the Twain Shall Meet**

**Disclaimer: Title taken from a memorable and lovely episode of Secret Diary of a Call Girl. This work is by no means real and is only based on 1D’s public personas.**

_The key to fantasy is knowing that you’re in one._

Louis cannot for the life of him remember where he heard that line. He doesn’t even know why he suddenly thought about that line. But he has no time to dwell on it because Harry crash lands beside him on the sofa a moment later, a fresh bottle of beer in one hand. 

“I hope you didn’t take any of my crisps when I was gone,” Harry says as he settles in a more comfortable position, long legs stretching out. He then grabs the bowl of crisps he had set aside before taking a sip of his drink.

Louis dons a mockingly hurt face. “I would never! How dare you accuse me!” he says, even as he reaches out, viper-fast, and grabbing a handful of crisps and stuffing them in his mouth. Harry lets out an outraged yelp, but Louis makes a show of swallowing the stolen food. “Sorry mate, they’re gone.” he says, smirking at the other boy.

“Nope, you didn’t get them all,” Harry counters and lunges across the sofa and licks away the few crumbs of crisps that were sticking around the corner of Louis’ mouth. He then settles smugly on his end of the sofa and turns back to the telly, this time one arm protectively shielding his bowl.

Louis can literally feel his heart pound in his chest. 

How long has it been since Harry did something that intimate with Louis? A year or so? God, he couldn’t remember a lot of things lately. But he forces his breathing to return to normal and stamps down the little flicker of illogical joy he felt at having Harry’s tongue against his lips.

“Remind me again why you are hanging out at my flat if you’re going to deny me my own food?” he says instead, hoping his voice didn’t twinge with the burst of emotion he had just wrestled with. 

Harry raises one finger, “Firstly, you asked my here because we’re watching Hannibal.” He then raises the middle finger of his other hand but grins at Louis, “And secondly, any crisps that I put in my bowl are mine, and no longer yours. That’s just how it works, Lou.” 

Louis flips him off as well before turning back to the screen, and indeed, Hannibal Lecter is on screen, having another existential talk with Will Graham. They remain quiet for a while, nothing but the sounds of the show and Harry munching to fill up the room. Louis isn’t feeling this episode, even though things are pretty intense in the show.

“Hey Lou,” Harry suddenly speaks up, eyes still on the screen, “I’m crazy bored; Hannibal isn’t cooking anyone. Let’s just watch it some other time.”

Louis complies, turning off the TV before looking quizzically at Harry. “Well, what do you wanna do?” 

Harry shrugs; his white shirt has such a loose collar that the simple action very nearly slips it off of him. Louis smashes down the hope that the shirt will fall off. It was a hope that keeps springing up lately because of Harry’s recent wardrobe choices. 

“Wanna play FIFA?” Louis suggests half-heartedly, but he already knows that if Harry doesn’t want to watch TV, he’s probably not in the mood for games either. Hanging out with the other boys was also not an option, since Niall was visiting his family and Zayn and Liam both had dates with their girlfriends.

“I know! Let’s play What If!”

Louis lets out a loud laugh before catching the perplexed look on Harry’s face. “Mate, that’s hardly a game, and we’re not thirteen year old girls,” he explains. 

“Come on Lou, it’ll be fun!” Harry pleads, and Louis cannot say no to him when he pleads. Probably because of those huge green eyes. And the cherubic soft lips. And- Louis kicks himself mentally to stop the flow of images.

“Fine,” he says, “you go first.” The look of glee on the other boy’s face is so endearing, Louis has to stop himself from tackling Harry into a cuddle. 

“Okay, what if you could get a superpower, would you want one and what power?”

“Hell yeah! I’d get super speed, cause then I can go anywhere without paps or fans harassing me. It’s my turn, isn’t? What if you were an animal, what would you be?”

Harry actually takes some time to think of his answer. But he perks up and says “Koala bear, definitely a koala. Then I’d be adorable and munch on leaves all day and get petted by tourists.” He then clings to the backrest of the sofa and mimes being a koala, using his crisps as eucalyptus leaves. 

Louis really wants to say _You’re already pretty fucking adorable!_ but he instead says “Sounds more like something Nialler would want to do all day,” and they both chuckle. “Okay, give me a hard one this time, and get me a beer while you’re thinking about your question,” he adds. 

Harry narrows his eyes at Louis and pads to the kitchen. He comes back with two bottles, already opened because he is so freaking nice, and remains quiet, still formulating a question. Louis doesn’t speak up and takes a swig of his beer. He’s going to give Harry a few more seconds, and if he still didn’t have a question, he’s going to steal more chips. Maybe Harry would lick away the remnants again. 

“What if we were boyfriends?” 

Louis nearly spits out his drink. Luckily, he manages to swallow it down, though he breaks out sputtering. He glances at Harry, but all that is on his face is a pleased look at having his question elicit such a response.

“What do you mean ‘what if we were boyfriends’?” Louis asks roughly; roughly, because he’s trying to stop his heart from literally tearing its way out of him. 

Harry tucks his legs under him and leans forward, the picture of an interested listener. “I mean, what you would do if we were boyfriends. I mean, like, lots of fans say that we are and write all sorts of things about us. What if it was real, you know?” His green eyes are innocent and curious, he seriously just wants to know.

How can he not know? After years of being so closely intertwined, after the touring and all that shit, how can he not fucking know what Louis would do if they actually became…that? Louis literally kissed him on dozens of occasion. Not to mention all those snatches of physical contact. So how the fuck can Harry not fucking know?!

But it’s not like Louis actually said anything. With the band taking off, and management breathing down their necks and him meeting Eleanor, he never really did have the opportunity to tell Harry anything. So for the past four years all Louis had were his fantasies. Some were uncannily sordid, and others were just sickeningly sweet.

Well, might as well say some of it out loud.

“I can’t sum up our hypothetical relationship in one sentence!” Louis scoffs, even though he actually can, provided it would be a sentence as long as a novel. “Give me like a scenario or something to work with.”

“Fine, how about dinner? What if we were boyfriends and it was dinner time?”

Louis doesn’t need to think about the answer. “I’d cook for you obviously.”

“You already do that for me sometimes,” Harry points out, crossing his arms. 

“Yeah, but I’d make an effort. Like serve it with good wine and on nice plates, not those cheap ones, like real porcelain. And I’d kiss you afterwards just so I can taste my food in your mouth.” Harry has no idea how hard it was to just say that out loud. But he’s grinning, satisfied with the answer. His dimples seem more pronounced, as if Louis’ answer made them show off how kissable Harry was. 

“That’s nice,” Harry continues, “Okay, what about if I was cold?”

“Oi! Isn’t it my turn yet?” Louis protests. He really wants to change the question, but Harry counters that the next few questions are still under the “What If We Were Boyfriends” Question, so it was still his turn. But if Louis was being honest with himself, he wants to answer all of Harry’s questions. He wants Harry, period.

“Go on, answer it,” Harry goads, shuffling closer to Louis on the sofa, one hand propping up his chin, eyes alight with what Louis hopes isn’t just curiosity.

“Are we indoors or outdoors?”

“Indoors.”

Louis exhales sharply, but his reluctance is already gone. He wasn’t Harry’s boyfriend, never had been, probably never will. But tonight, this game of What Ifs was fleshing out his fantasies, making them seem more real. More possible. Fantasy was all he had with Harry.

“I’d cuddle you, because even though you are always ridiculously warm, you never feel it. I’d wrap my arms around your chest, cause you always complain that your other nipples feel weird when it’s cold. I wouldn’t let go of you, not until its warm enough for your curls to unfreeze.”

Harry lets out a sigh. Louis puzzles over it. But he doesn’t have enough time to think about what the sigh meant because Harry has sidled closer again. This time their sides are touching, and he can feel Harry’s warmth seep through his shirt and spread throughout his body.

Harry leans closer, puffs of his breath tickle Louis’ ear as he says “What if we were boyfriends, and I want to have sex.”

Time slows for Louis. Each syllable drags out for eternity before replaying again in his mind. Harry has not moved away, and they’re the closest they’ve been for a long time, not counting when they were horsing around with the other boys or teasing each other on the tour bus or when practising. 

Louis wants this intimateness. So he too leans forward, and he can feel Harry’s curls tickle his cheek. Louis relishes the tiny sparks of sensation. 

“I’d tear off your shirt, which wouldn’t hard ever since you started wearing your shirts way too open. Then I’d kiss your neck, marking it and making it mine. I’d take my time, kissing my way slowly down to your chest. You told me that you’ve always wanted someone to do something sexy with your tats. Does licking their outlines count as sexy?” Louis purrs into Harry’s ear.

The other boy rasps out a “Yes.” Louis can’t see, but from the increase in warmth, Harry is probably flushed red right now. 

“I’d torture you with how I’m dragging it out. I’ll palm your cock through your ridiculously tight jeans, and then take forever to unzip them. Then I’d just look at your throbbing dick for a while, probably enjoying your whimpering.”

“What if I plead for you to go faster?” Harry whispers. Louis is also actually pretty wound up; it’s a miracle his voice is so controlled when in reality he’s dying of the tension.

“I’d ignore you, and do it my way. I’d lick just the tip, at first. You know, savour it and the fact that you’d probably be writhing. That’s all I’d do for like five whole minutes, just little licks at the tip of your dick. You’d probably already be moaning so loud, begging for me to fuck you.”

“Would you?”

“Eventually, after I’d had my fun. But first I’d-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Harry clarifies, sitting back and looking Louis right in the eye.

“What?” For a moment Louis is pulled back from his mind where he was already blowing Harry, puzzlement replacing passion.

“I mean would you really fuck me?” Harry enunciates each word clearly, but he says “fuck” with particular relish. Louis thinks he can see a burning hunger in Harry’s green eyes. He can only imagine what Harry is seeing in Louis’. Probably raging want, want so strong they’d make his blue eyes seem warm.

“I-”

But that’s all Louis can get out, because just then, the door to the flat opens with a jingle of keys and Eleanor stumbles in, looking weary. “Sorry I’m so late! The photo shoot was a mess but I think it was worth it. I missed the whole episode, didn’t I?” She settles down in the space that has suddenly appeared between him and Harry; he doesn’t even remember when Harry sprung away from him. It’s almost as if the entire game had never happened. Harry gives El a friendly kiss on the cheek.

El gives Louis a kiss on the cheek as well, and turns to Harry. “Well? What are you two up to?”

Harry grins, and it looks so sinful Louis has to turn away from it. “Louis was just telling me what he’d do if we were actually boyfriends,” he says, reaching over El to pat Louis on the shoulder. The touch sizzles on Louis’ skin and he flinches.

El giggles and leans against Louis. “So? Would he make good boyfriend material, Harry?”

Louis wants to block his ears, but his body is paralyzed. He wants to hear what Harry has to say, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to. His brain isn’t making sense lately, but that’s Harry’s fault and now he can’t move. 

“I think he’d make a pretty fucking great boyfriend,” Harry says. This time, the fondness is so unmistakable in his voice that Louis looks up. And the look on Harry’s face…he won’t ever forget it. It’s truly happy, like just hearing Louis talk about what he would do made him feel the joy of it actually happening, but it was also wistful, like he thinks it’s never going to really happen.

“What happened in the show? Did they catch Hannibal? I hope not, because I love it when he and Will talk psychology,” Eleanor says. She tucks her arm around Louis’ waist and he automatically pulls her tight and puts an arm around her shoulders; its reflex at this point.

“We didn’t watch it actually,” Louis says, he tries to catch Harry’s eye, to show him how much that remark about him being a great boyfriend meant to him, but the other boy is doing something on his phone. “We just talked, didn’t feel like watching it without you.” The words are hollow, but Eleanor doesn’t notice their meaninglessness. She kisses him for being thoughtful and tells them about a new show she wants to see. Louis and Harry both agree to watch it.

In ten minutes, Louis’ breathing normalizes, and Harry unfurls himself from the sofa and sprawls instead on the floor, allowing Eleanor to stretch out and use Louis’ lap as a pillow.

In twenty minutes, Louis is asking El about her shoot and Harry is friendly to both of them, but he’s treating them as A Couple, a two-in-one form. The distance between him and Louis is no longer just physical. 

In thirty minutes, Harry is leaving the flat. Louis shows him out.

“That was interesting,” Harry says as he slips into his huge jacket.

“What? The show? Cause it actually was, if you-”

“I meant the game we played, Lou,” Harry says eyes sparkling from the hallway lights.

Louis wants to kiss him then. To show him everything. 

To do everything he said he’d do.

But the other boy is already striding down the hall, the thumping of his boots growing fainter. In a few seconds, he’s already out of sight.

Louis slumps against the door, tears spilling from his eyes. He quiets the lone sob that escapes him with his clenched fist and wipes away the tears with his the back of his hand. Eleanor calls out to him from the living room, genuinely wanting to spend time with Louis. He pads back to the living room and feigns a smile as he settles beside her on the sofa.

Late into the night, with El sleeping beside him, Louis at last remembers from where the line came from. It was from an episode of a show he had watched with El. And he remembers with shattering clarity another line from the episode.

_Fantasy and reality, and never the twain shall meet._


End file.
